Guy Adams - The Clown Service

‘What should I do?’ asked Tamar.

‘No idea at the moment,’ I admitted. ‘We just need to get every bit of information together that we can.’

‘I could go to warehouse and try to find him. Krishnin must have been seen.’

‘You’d think so, yes, though he vanished into thin air, so I wouldn’t bank on it.’ I kicked the filing cabinet in frustration. ‘That’s the bloody problem! I’m not prepared to deal with this kind of thing. It’s all nonsense to me. He could have been snatched by leprechauns for all I know.’

‘Don’t be silly, darling, the leprechauns keep themselves to themselves since the ceasefire in Northern Ireland.’

I stared at her and she fluttered her eyelashes in a manner that she no doubt thought of as coquettish but just struck me as smug.

‘You’re as bad as he is,’ I said. ‘You know what I mean, this is not a situation I’m trained to handle. I don’t know the rules, the possibilities… it’s all above my head.’

‘Rubbish, you’re an intelligence officer. Now use some. For what it’s worth though, I think you’re right to keep his disappearance a secret. We’re on our own – Section 37 always is.’

As if to reinforce her point, the office phone started ringing and it took me a moment to realise that I was the only one who should answer it.

‘I don’t even know how he answers the bloody phone!’ I exclaimed.

April sighed and took over. ‘Dark Spectre,’ she said, ‘publishers of the weird and wonderful.’

Our cover was a publishing house?

She listened for a moment. ‘That’s quite all right. Our senior editor is out of the office at the moment, but I’m fully capable of handling your enquiry.’

She listened a little more then rifled around the desk for a pen and a piece of paper. ‘Yes,’ she said, while taking notes, ‘fine. I’ll send one of our men right over. His name’s Howard Phillips. He’ll introduce himself.’ She put the phone down.

‘Who the hell’s Howard Phillips?’ I asked.

‘You are, dear, at least for today. That was one of August’s contacts at the Met. It appears they’ve found a dead body that fits his brief rather more than theirs.’

‘I haven’t the time to be chasing other things,’ I insisted. ‘We have to focus on the operation in hand.’

‘Up to you, of course, but she’s expecting you outside St Mathew’s in Aldgate.’

‘St Mathew’s?’ I remembered the bizarre message from the newspaper seller. ‘Fine, I’ll go.’

‘Shining? Wake up. I know you can hear me.’

‘I can hear you.’

‘We must talk.’

‘I suppose we must.’

‘You got old.’

‘Yes. You didn’t. Which is fascinating. Perhaps not quite as fascinating as the fact that you shouldn’t even be here, but fascinating nonetheless.’

‘I shouldn’t be here?’

‘No. Of course you shouldn’t. You should be dead.’

‘How can you be so sure I’m not?’

‘The fact I’m talking to you?’

‘We know better in our business: things are not always as they should be.’

‘No. That’s true. Still, this would be my first conversation with a dead man.’

‘Really? I used to interrogate them all the time.’

‘Echoes. Shades. A walking, talking dead man? That’s new to me.’

‘Perhaps you were mistaken then. Would that make you more comfortable? Perhaps I’m not dead at all.’

‘No. No, sorry that won’t do. I know you died. You’ll forgive me if it’s tactless to bring it up. I know you died. I was the one who killed you.’

‘I’ve forgiven you.’

‘Then maybe you’ll untie me? My old bones aren’t what they once were.’

‘I think not. Forgiveness will only stretch so far.’

‘A drink of water then?’

‘Perhaps. Later. I must admit I wondered if you’d still be alive yourself. You’re very old.’

‘Very. We Shinings were built to last. Extraordinarily resilient.’

‘Time will tell.’

‘A threat?’

‘I would take no pleasure in torturing an old man to death.’

‘Even the old man who killed you?’

‘Even him. But we must talk.’

‘And what is it you would like to talk about? Cabbages and kings?’

‘I would like to know what you know. I think that would be helpful. I think that would be sensible.’

‘How long have you got? It’s been a long old life – as you kindly point out. I know a lot of things…’

‘But what have you told others? You always did surround yourself with agents and freaks. But how important are they? Who in power might listen to them? My sources tell me that you are operating on your own. And now I have you. Perhaps that will be enough? When the entirety of Section 37 is tied to a chair and totally vulnerable, even the most cautious man would have to admit its potential threat is diminished.’

‘They would.’

‘And yet you smile. You are alone, aren’t you?’

‘I’m sure your sources were quite thorough. Section 37’s been a one-man band for years.’

‘Yes. The world moved on, didn’t it? My own work seems to have been ignored. The department disbanded.’

‘These are impoverished times. Your country is no longer what it once was.’

‘We shall see about that. It has always struggled to thrive under unimaginative leadership.’

‘Since the glorious days of Stalin?’

‘You mock, but at least he had vision. That said, no, I had no love for the old dictator. My father died under his regime. Stalin was a maniac. But perhaps that is also what they say of me?’

‘And are you?’

‘I am… determined. I am an aggressor. I want to attack, to grind this country beneath my heel. I want power. I want control. I want… death. Yes, perhaps I am a maniac after all.’

‘Perhaps you are. And is that really how you want to be remembered?’

‘Remembered? I don’t know if that’s important to me. I resented the fact that my government turned against me, but I think that was more frustration than a feeling of injustice. They weren’t willing to do something that could so easily be done. And will be done. Soon.’

‘Ah yes – the countdown. Wonderfully theatrical. I take it I triggered that by entering the warehouse?’

‘A basic safeguard, in case you were more of a threat than you appear. So, I say again, what do you know?’

‘Ah… But here’s the problem. As you say, we’ve both been playing this game for a long time. If I give you the information you want, I become dispensable. Not what I’d want at all.’

‘But maybe I’ll kill you anyway?’

‘Maybe you will. Either way I seem to be staring death in the face. Any advice on how I deal with it? You being a man with experience.’

‘Yes, I know all about death, August. I know how to receive it and how to give it.’

‘I wonder which side of that equation you’ll end up today.’

‘I too wonder… Perhaps we should find out?’

a) St Mathew’s Church, Aldgate, London

Shining’s contact within the Met was not what I imagined. My experience of the police had been having to handle jaded lifers– men who wore their years served with the same apathy as they did their tired suits and ties. After this, plainclothes detective Geeta Sahni was a breath of fresh air.

She met me a short distance from St Mathew’s. I could see the police tape and the predictable gaggle of journalists sniffing around it, digital cameras poised to snatch a juicy morsel of death for their pages.

I had expected she’d take some convincing to talk to me. Shining had clearly built a strong sense of loyalty with his assets and I was not the man she had been hoping to see. And yet she was only too happy.